


my lady calls

by ferretrapture



Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, also a neighbors au, briefly mentioned unrequited crush, malvolio is a dick and a mother hen somehow, proofreading is my mortal enemy please point out any Mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferretrapture/pseuds/ferretrapture
Summary: Olivia is struggling and Malvolio is.. helping.Ft. Uncomfortable Crying





	my lady calls

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i wrote a twelfth night high school au bc,, fuck u
> 
> specifics on the abuse: uhh Wow CPS Should Really Be Called is a conversation they have, and also mal implies that he thinks theres something Sketch going on between toby and andrew
> 
> other notes: toby, orsino, and malvolio all live together. yeah don't ask. it's also implied that feste and olivia are related/lived together

Malvolio is not, under any circumstance, an emotional person. If you ask him, they’re a distraction, and a dramatic one at that. Toby and his idiot victim Andrew are perfect examples that he sees daily, unfortunately, suffering through their drunken antics. Olivia, even more unfortunately, seems to be becoming an example as well.

The thing is, he really does like Olivia. She may well be the only person Malvolio can tolerate for more than half an hour, let alone enjoy the company of. She’s brilliant, graceful, and infinitely less foul than the rest of the people she hangs around. She’s just been... mourning, recently. Like she did after her father’s death. Every time he sees her and she’s just a little worse off, a little more unkempt, he reminds himself of that. She’s just mourning. It will pass.

It will pass, and in the meantime, it is him who has to deal with her.

He came home to- after tricking the lock to his damn door back from Andrew- no less than sixteen texts from her, along the lines of _Malvolio / Malvolio can you come over / please / sorry_ , which he supposes must be related to why she was absent from school that day.

So here he is, sneaking into her garden like an idiot and digging up the side door key in the hanging plants. Her house is quiet- incredibly quiet, now that most of its residents are gone. Her father died, then her brother, and Feste disappeared a week after that. Usually Maria can be found in the kitchen, but she must not be if Olivia is calling him. He climbs the stairs, quickly but quietly. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s to be caught by her mother.

Halfway down the hall from her room, he hears the quiet, sniffling crying, and cringes. Joy. Why can’t Maria be her comforter? Or her cousin? Or any other god forsaken person she knows?

Ugh. He knows full well why. Maria doesn’t have a bone of kindness in her body, and Toby hasn’t even heard the word. Not to say he himself has much, he admits, but at least he knows when to be decent. Usually.

His hand hovers over her doorknob for far too long before he finally gives in an opens it, wincing at the creak. There she sits, cross legged and half draped in her dark sheets. She glances over at him, slightly surprised. “Malvolio,” she greets, but her voice is so raspy she might as well have mouthed it.

“Do- do you want some water?” he asks, awkwardly frowning at her. He can’t seem to make himself move from the doorway. After a moment of deliberation, she nods, and he doesn’t so much leave the room as he does flee.

Returning with her glass is similar if not worse, and he just averts his eyes until he’s standing at her side. She takes the glass and a couple sips before clearing her throat and giving a quick, “Thank you.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is your first sip of water in far too long,” he says, narrowed eyes and voice flat. Part of him is aware it’s accusing, but he doesn’t know how else to react. Besides, Olivia just gives him a humorless smile and shrugs. “You need to do that,” he sighs, exasperated. “Have you eaten?”

“Probably,” she replies, taking another careful sip of water.

For a second, he sees red. “Probably?” he asks, trying and failing to keep his voice down.

Her eyebrows furrow, just slightly. “Okay, I haven’t. There’s no need to shout.”

“I swear by god..” Malvolio mutters, running a hand through his hair furiously. It manifests itself as anger, but there’s a horrible gaping fear for her stuck in the middle of his chest. “I’m going to go make you something right now--”

“No,” she says, raising her voice considerably, though her expression is still mostly blank. He freezes halfway through trying to leave, scowling and looking back at her. “I’m not hungry anyways.”

“You have to eat something.”

“I will, I will,” she says, sighing. Tucking the blankets closer to her with one hand, she pats the space beside her with the other, and it takes a couples seconds for him to realize she wants him to sit. “I’m sorry for dragging you here. I should have realized you would be in school when I texted you. I shouldn’t have texted you at all.”

“At school, as you should also have been,” he reminds sternly.

“Yes, well. I was panicking and crying this morning, so I hope you can forgive me for my misdemeanor,” she says, dripping with sarcasm. Despite the sting of her words, he’s glad he at least got the reaction.

However, it doesn’t mean he won’t fight it. “It’s your junior year,” he insists. “We aren’t underclassmen anymore, you can’t- slack off.”

“As if either of us ever slacked off.” For a second, he thinks she’s referring to the two of them- which she would be correct in. He takes pride in doing his work right the first time. But, as her expression darkens, he realizes that at least unconsciously she was referring to her brother and her.

Who was an incredible slacker, thank you very much, but now is probably not the best time to mention it.

She glances off and he follows her gaze to the blank wall, a sterile beige against her black mood. “...Do you want anything?” he asks, voice considerably softened, shifting where he sits stiffly on the edge of the mattress.

“No, I’m-” she starts, and the words break off. When she looks back his way there are tears in her eyes, and oh god no. “I’m sorry,” she says, curling in on herself slightly and trembling.

Unsure, Malvolio shifts a little bit closer to comfort her, and immediately regrets it. Physical contact ranks fairly high on his list of least favorite things, unless under certain circumstances, and Olivia knows it. Yet even still, she sweeps him up into an uncomfortable, squeezing hug.

“Uh-” he chokes, torn between pulling away and comforting her. Slowly, he breaks his arms free of her grip and rests them on her shoulders, deliberating whether or not to shove her off. As she starts sobbing on his shoulder, shoulders shaking, he sighs, and fits his arms uncomfortably around her.

As she cries, he relaxes enough- not a lot, not even a little, but just enough- to let his head rest on her shoulder as she gasps out something unintelligible between sobs. It goes on for much longer than he would prefer.

Finally, her crying comes to a shuttering end, and she breathes clearly. There’s an uncomfortable wet patch on his shirt as she pulls back, hesitating before letting him go entirely. The impulse hits him to physically shake off the lingering feeling of her touch, or just to wipe off where she held him, but he doesn’t.

“Okay,” she says, catching her breath. “Now I’m really sorry.” It sounds a little more rational than her broken apologies pre-breakdown, so he doesn’t brace himself for another awkward five minute crying session. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

She fists the bed sheets, frowning, and continues, “I know you don’t like it. I’m just...”

“It’s fine, Olivia,” he says quietly, trying to shake the paralysis of randomly being hugged and cried on back off. “I mean, don’t do it again, but. You’re grieving. It’s fine.” She’s grieving. It will pass. It will.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorr....” she takes a breath. And then another. “Thank you for being so patient with me. Do you... I actually am fairly hungry, I’ve just been ignoring it. Come downstairs with me? I won’t even make you cook.”

He jumps at the opportunity to leave this stifling bedroom, already off the bed and brushing off nothing from his pants. “God knows I will anyway. You don’t eat anything nearly healthy enough.”

“Oh, you can’t judge me for that. You’re no better than I am.” She pushes herself off the bed slowly, and Malvolio can almost hear her bones creak. It makes him wonder how long she’s been sitting here, staring off into space.

“That’s not of my own choice,” he scoffs, already out of the room and halfway down the hall. It takes a moment of conscious effort to slow down enough to let Olivia keep up in her flowing nightgown.

“Yes, yes, talk to me another hour about how awful the Dukes are,” she says with a fond sigh. “Social services are just a phone call away, you know.” It’s a light joke, but it’s a serious discussion the two of them have had many times before.

“You have no clue how often I consider it,” he grumbles anyway, but he never would. If he did, where might he end up? For all his housemates are going to drive him insane and the Dukes themselves are a force to be feared, a well off family by Olivia is better than many of the alternatives he could be faced with.

Olivia hums wearily, dropping into one of the stools on the kitchen island as they enter. “I’ve considered doing it myself many times. But then, what would happen to you? And to Toby? I couldn’t do that to Orsino either, obnoxious as he may be.”

Malvolio rolls his eyes. “What do you see in Toby? I know he’s your cousin, but isn’t it obvious how little he cares?” He reaches into the pantry, glancing at cans, pulling them out, and throwing away the old ones.

“Painfully,” she sighs, brushing her hair back with one hand. “But he is my cousin, and I worry for him.”

He snorts. “I only worry for how much damage he does wrecking around with that poor kid.” Then, after a moment of consideration, “Not that he’s any better. Why are all of your things expired?”

“We don’t exactly do a whole lot of cooking anymore.”

“No? Not even Feste- er, Maria?” He forces himself not to wince as Olivia frowns at Feste’s name.

She doesn’t comment though, and just shakes her head. “Maria once tried to cook and left burn stains on the dining room ceiling. She’s banned from it entirely.”

“Christ,” mutters Malvolio, putting a filled pan onto the stove.

“And besides,” she points out, continuing their old conversation thread. “That kid Toby is with is only a year younger than us. Hardly a baby.”

“Two years younger than me, thank you very much. And three years younger than that degenerate you call cousin.”

“Malvolio,” she scolds, scowling down at him. She’s serious, and seriously intimidating. He will always loathe how much taller she is than him.

“I’m right and you know it,” he huffs, but relents.

“You are not going to talk about Toby like that.” It’s stern, almost angry. She’s more lively than when Malvolio found her upstairs, but he’s too grumpy about Toby to notice.

He grabs himself a glass of water while the food fries. “Yes, your lordship,” he mocks, sneering in her face.

“I think that would be ladyship, sir steward.” She smiles a little as the talk about her cousin goes away, and lays her arms and head on the table.

“Either way, that is almost certainly not the right way to address a steward. Wait,” he pauses. “Why am I your steward?”

She laughs, then. Just a little chuckle, but her cheeks flush anyway, drawing in his gaze. Her hair is absurdly messy and stray brown curls frame her face and- no. No. He is not doing this. Not now, of all times.

He tears his eyes away from her, shaking his head. Across the room, he grabs a wooden spoon, flipping the greens in the pan.

Behind him, Olivia frowns. “Malvolio?”

“Yes?” he responds, barely glancing behind him.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, thinking about the frustrated disgust on his face as he turned and stalked across the room. “You seem...”

“Of course not,” he cuts her off. “I’m not the one who had to have their neighbor come in and make them food so that they would eat for the first time in, how many days now?” Too blinded to see his own defensiveness, he glares at a wall.

“Oh, hush,” she says, about as close to grumbling as she will ever come. “I just... miss him.”

“And I miss having you function like a normal person,” he retorts sharply. Testing the stir fry, he deems it fine enough and cuts off the heat, serving it onto two plates. “Here.”

“Mm...” she hums, poking quietly at it. After a long moment, she forces herself to take a bite. “Don’t you? Miss him, I mean.”

“I didn’t know him as well as I do you.” In truth, he hadn’t ever spoken to her brother about anything other than Olivia. “Obviously I mourn his death like any.”

“You’re right,” she says, though she’s clearly not happy about her brother’s death being deemed ‘like any.’ “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he waves it off, and though awkward and somewhat emotional conversation is a price Malvolio is grudgingly willing to pay to see her well again, the words are starting to get sour in his mouth.

“No, I shouldn’t’ve asked. I knew the answer. Sometimes, it just feels like nobody misses him but me. Clearly Toby doesn’t, and I’m convinced that my mother has already forgotten his existence entirely.”

“It seems you’ve chosen to grieve him for all of us.” It’s not a quip Olivia takes well. “Surely he had friends somewhere. They’re bound to be mourning him too.”

Despite the fact that he’s talking out of his ass, Olivia nods slowly. “That makes sense. I’m just, on another level, afraid to be reminded of him.” Another laugh, less humorous. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Grief will do that to someone,” he says, and quickly shoves another bite into his mouth. Any time this incredibly awkward conversation with end would be wonderful.

“I’m just thinking out loud,” she says, suddenly once again weary to the bone. Another, It’s okay, lies on the tip of his tongue, but before he gets it out, distinctive clicking footsteps interrupt him.

“Oh god,” hisses Olivia, turning to look out the kitchen door. “It’s my mother. Quick, hide, or- go!”

Not without some humiliation, Malvolio ducks into the pantry room and hides behind the door, listening to the conversation before him.

“Olivia,” her mother says, with a cool voice dropping in temperature by the second. “Who were you talking to in here?”

The sound of nails clicking on the counter sounds out, but he isn’t sure who’s. “Just Malvoli-- oh. Looks like he hung up.” Through the crack he can see her glance at her phone, shrug, and frown. Turning away, Malvolio pries open the creaking door, cringing at the noise. Once open and shut, he’s free to go back to his own house, which is thankfully empty of its most irritating residents.

Upstairs, he double locks his door and grabs his homework folder from his bag, pausing to send Olivia a text. _I went home._

Retrieving his physics papers, he grumbles under his breath that, despite how painful it was, he’s pretty sure spending time with Olivia will end up the highlight of his day.

As the front door slams open loud enough to shake the walls and Toby’s drunken-at-four-thirty-in-the-afternoon voice cries out, “Andrew, my boy!” he grimaces. Forcing her to eat seems like an hour in heaven compared to anything around his house when they two of them are drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> hh... put off posting this for three days because i was afraid i got the names wrong
> 
> blease dont murder me


End file.
